


sugar skulls, gasoline graves, backs of cars, battlefields

by softheartelectricsoul



Series: Beyond The Scene [3]
Category: Fall Out Boy, M A N I A - Fall Out Boy (Album)
Genre: 400 Words About How Much I Love MANIA, American Metaphors, Extended Metaphors, Gen, Introspection, Llamas (kinda), Metaphors About Sex, Poetry, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, This might possibly be the greatest thing I've ever written, bear with me ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 06:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12743214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softheartelectricsoul/pseuds/softheartelectricsoul
Summary: My name is America Wilson.I am real.I am insane.I believe in all these things, and that makes them true.(an introspection about the themes of mania)





	sugar skulls, gasoline graves, backs of cars, battlefields

**Author's Note:**

> quite possibly the best thing I have ever vomited out in ten minutes
> 
> have I mentioned how much I love MANIA

**young and a menace**

 

She crests the wave, colours beaming and freezing and falling.

She supposes this is what you see when your eyes are closed and you're blind to the world but the world isn't blind to you.

It's edging constantly, like falling into something and you are not enjoying it, you are not inside it, you are the glory and the pain and the beauty.

It's stereo speakers, constantly blasting the world back into your ears, but somehow louder and more powerful.

Power, she thinks, in that carousel of MANIA.

* * *

 

**champion**

 

Her name is America Wilson.

She is the sanest she has been for a long, long time; she's the beauty today, not the psycho.

She believes that this is, and she believes it is true.

For power is in your mind, and she supposes she sounds like a motivational speaker, like a sweet-talking televangelist (those ones who preach the prosperity gospels) but she knows that belief makes the world rise and fall, and if you can get through this, you can do anything.

* * *

 

**the last of the real ones**

All the terrorists in the world believed, and all the missionaries did too, and so did all the people ever lived, but they all believed in different things.

The Gods, they knew that the music had people believe in things that weren't them, they believed they had to stop it. They believed that they could stop it.

But she will take the music with her, for they will never reach her mind, and she will take the music to her gasoline grave.

For America has always been a religious country.

* * *

 

**hold me tight or don't**

 

She has believed in the afterlife, and the afterlife she has received.

It's insanity, reigned in, sharpened, and used as a weapon of belief. It's the mothers arguing that vaccines give you autism, it's every killer with something wrong in the head, it's a knife made of the distance between us.

But it's insanity, even if she has to seek it, and it's too addictive to give up.

It's far from beautiful: it's every explosion you can't look away from, it's every sin that has ever been committed in the backs of cars and battlefields, it's the pumping music through the nightclub speakers, so shallow and yet filled with power, for she believes it to be.

So America dances to the beat of her heart, her makeup smudging, her feet feeling like hell, but yet she never sleeps, never eats, she's caught forever in the sunshine riptide, because this isn't how the story ends.


End file.
